


Passing On The Privilege

by BanderHeart



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 15:58:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16835851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BanderHeart/pseuds/BanderHeart
Summary: A mixture of the world of Who and our own...Someone is looking to start a new job.





	Passing On The Privilege

Passing on the Privilege

Her boots made a dull thud on the stone floor as she entered the children’s home. She checked her watch – nice and early, which was unlike her, but a pretty nice change. It had been a welcome surprise to get the interview invite through the post, and she gripped her notebook tightly with the blue envelope slipped inside.

The building that had seemed so normal and box shaped from the outside, had adopted a strange feeling of a circular maze once inside. There seemed to be no end to the stream of doors and corridors, and no clear order to them either. Instead of names or numbers on the doors, there were strange, circular symbols. She took a look at the invitation, particularly the symbol at the top of the letter, and the line that read simply, ‘Please meet me in the office on Sunday 16th July at 16:00’.

Her plan had started out as to go from door to door, looking for the symbol, hoping that that would lead her to the office. Initially, this had seemed a good idea, but after 20 minutes of searching, she was starting to think she’d never find it. _And I was early as well_. Just at the point of giving up, she heard the melancholy hum of an electric guitar solo from behind a tatty, blue, wooden door to her left. At closer inspection, it looked like the symbol for this door had been scrubbed off. She so hoped this was the office… and, to be honest, it wasn’t like she had many other ideas. She knocked. When there was no answer, she turned the handle, and poked her head around the door.

The guitarist had his back to the door, so all she could see of him at that point was an explosion of grey on his head, and a tattered, black velvet coat. He was very skinny, and the coat looked like it had once fit him but was now a little bit big. She noticed his heavy black boots with admiration and smiled – _nice_.

She cleared her throat – twice when the first didn’t get a reaction. The guitar screeched as he stopped playing and span around to face her. She smiled and waved awkwardly, hand at her side. ‘Y’alright?’

He took sudden steps towards her, limping slightly, and stared straight into her face through a pair of dark sunglasses. She pulled back slightly as this strange man glowered. After a few seconds, he seemed to realise what he was doing, and backed up, huffing, ‘Sorry.’

He turned away and flicked the switch of the amp, powering the buzzing noise down. She took a couple of steps further in.

‘Sounded sad.’

‘Hmm, yeah, sorry…’ he fussed around putting the guitar down, ‘I don’t normally play it when there’s uh…’ he gestured up and down at her, ‘other people around. But, uh… sometimes it’s good to play your own songs… even if there’s, uh… nobody there to hear you.’ He sat gingerly at his desk, took his glasses off, crossed his fingers over his chest, and stretched his legs out with a sigh.

She smiled before saying, ‘I like all sorts of music, me.’

He exhaled through his nose as he nodded approvingly.

They sat across from each other for a time, only the carriage clock audible against the background noise of children playing. The room smelt of tea and ink. Looking at him, she noticed how tired he looked. There was an old cut above his eyebrow, and one of his hands was bandaged. And even though there were dark circles under his eyes – bruises or just tiredness, she couldn’t tell – they looked more alive than anything, sparkling with a kind of magic.

‘Y’know they’ll all need looking after?’ The question came suddenly, in a low, Scottish rumble. His grey eyebrows arched asymmetrically at her. ‘But each in their own way.’

She opened her mouth to reply, but he cut in before she could.

‘There’re others too. Older, but no less important. But these young ones… They’re the ones that need the most protection. ‘Cause if we can help them early, things’ll be better later on.’ He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. ‘Maybe we can help a little,’ he whispered.

‘Looks like it takes a lot out of you?’

He exhaled, ‘Only towards the end.’

She cocked her head as he looked at her. So, this job may not be as plain sailing as she’d thought. _But how hard could it really be?_ She’d assumed she’d just be helping out around the place. From the way he held himself, and how battered he was… it was almost as if he were a kind of protector, not the caretaker. But that magic in his eyes made her wonder… if he could endure the pain he was obviously in, yet still want the best for these kids – these people – the job must be worth it.

‘Reckon you could handle it? Cause god knows it isn’t easy, but if you do the best you can do, they’ll be alright.’

She thought for a while. Then she looked up at him. His eyes were on hers, and they were glistening slightly. He smiled a hopeful, yet sad smile, and she returned the gesture with a brilliant beam.

With a shrug of her shoulders, and still retaining that grin, she said, ‘Yes please. I know I won’t always get it right, but I’ll make them a part of who I am, and try to look after them.’ She looked down and frowned slightly, ‘We all need certainty, security. I can do that. If you’ll have me?’

He didn’t react or move straight away. Instead he sat, his eyes slightly glazed over, as if lost in thought. She wondered if he’d even heard her. Then she noticed the glaze in his eyes, and chewed her lip – awkward, yet moved by the stifled display of emotion. _Yes_ , she thought, _this is definitely gonna be a proper rollercoaster of a job_.

After a few minutes, she asked hesitantly, ‘Y’alright?’

He inhaled sharply, and brought himself back to the room. ‘Mmhm, yep… sorry!’ He stood tentatively, held out his bandaged hand to her, then pulled it back slightly. ‘Umm…’ he started, glancing down and shaking the injured hand slightly, ‘mind if we do this, uh, differently?’ He held out the other hand.

‘Oh brilliant!’ She gasped, grabbing his hand enthusiastically, feeling immediately guilty at the wince he let out, ‘Sorry! I’m just excited!’

He grinned – that wonderful spectacle that made her beam all the more. That grin was infectious, and she knew then that she was making the right decision.

When she finally stopped shaking his hand, he brought it back to his chest, and rubbed his chest, looking down as he said, ‘Well then, I’ll let you go.’

He watched her trench-coat twirl around as she went to leave the office. Just beyond the door, she turned her head back to him and flashed that same, excited grin. He smiled back weakly, with simultaneous grief and relief. Her blond bob bounced down the corridor until she was out of sight.

He grimaced slightly, as he sat and pulled himself closer to his desk. He rested his elbows on his papers. Tears glistened in his eyes.

_Yeah_ , he thought. _She’ll do brilliantly_.

**Author's Note:**

> This was done pretty quickly, so it's not perfect and could potentially do with fleshing out, which may or may not ever happen. Trying to get myself back into the writing game... let's see how it goes!


End file.
